


Red, Green, And Everything In Between

by Sandyclaws68



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas fic, Complete, F/M, Fluffy, Kidge Week 2016, Mild Language, Mild Smut, Mostly romantic Kidge, Platonic Kidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandyclaws68/pseuds/Sandyclaws68
Summary: Series of short, individual fics written for Kidge Week 2016.  Chapter titles = the theme for that day of the week.





	1. Burn

“It'll be at least forty-eight hours. Maybe longer. With this kind of extensive damage it's tough to call.” Coran sighed and laid a hand on the already sealed healing pod. “He's lucky to be alive,” he whispered, the words dropping like a lead weight in the room.

Extensive damage. That was certainly one way to describe second-degree burns covering eighty per cent of his legs and most of his hands and forearms.

“We need to find out what caused this as soon as possible, so we can counteract this new Galra weapon,” Allura put in, voice soft and a little heavy. She was blinking much more often than normal as well.

Pidge took that as her cue to leave and head down to the Red Lion's hangar. It was either that or have some sort of emotional breakdown in front of everybody, and she wasn't yet ready for anyone to learn just how deep the attachment between herself and Keith had gotten.

The smell of smoke and charred electronics hit her even before the door to the hangar opened. It was sickening, and she had to pause to take a deep breath as her stomach roiled. She pressed a hand on the cool metal of the wall for a moment before forcing herself to walk forward and right up to the Lion's head.

Red looked dejected, head hanging low, but she obediently opened her mouth to grant Pidge access to the cockpit. The odor of an electrical fire grew stronger with each step she took up the ramp, and Pidge paused to take in more of the smell despite her nausea. There could be a vital clue in the scent, after all, and if she was going to figure out what happened she needed all the help she can get.

But all those thoughts flew out of her head when she got to the top of the ramp and turned to pass through the open door of the cockpit. The control panel had scorch marks all the way across the bottom and underneath was a mess of jumbled, burnt, and melted wiring. The Red Bayard was stuck in the socket for Voltron's sword, the whole assembly a charred mess.

Everything boiled over then. Hot tears welled up and spilled down Pidge's cheeks, and something inside her snapped. “How could you let this happen?!” she shouted, angry and agonized. “How could you let him be hurt like this? You're the Guardian of Fire, you should have been able to protect him! You should have -” Her voice cut off with a guttural sob as she fell to her knees, hands pressed to her face as if she could hold in the anguish. But then she dropped her hands so her skin could make direct contact with the metal. “Why?” she whispered one last question.

And suddenly Red's essence bloomed in the back of her mind, in that place where all of them, Lions and Paladins, shared a bond. There was none of her usual self-assurance there, though; Red was full of pain, of self-doubt and self-recrimination, due to her failure to protect her beloved Paladin. And underneath all of that was a warm steady glow, a vow to never fail Keith again.

Pidge smiled, if a little sadly, when she felt all of that. She kept her hands in contact with Red to facilitate their communication. “I know, darling, I know,” she softly assured the giant Lion. “He'll heal, and so will you.” There was a quiet, extended pause.

“I'll never fail either of you.”


	2. Secret

Everyone had their own way of recovering from missions. Difficult missions, dangerous mission, not-quite-successful missions – they all took their toll. And the process of getting back to normal – decompressing, as Allura called it – was vital for their mental and emotional health.

It didn't take long for all five Paladins to fall into routines. Shiro's marathon tai chi sessions were almost legendary. Hunk would lock himself in the kitchen and experiment with food goo and whatever local ingredients were on hand until he fell into an exhausted sleep. Lance enjoyed his own peculiar form of meditation which usually involved headphones and loud music.

Keith and Pidge? They had sex.

It didn't start out that way, of course. But after one particularly grueling mission what had started out as a fierce argument between the two of them had blown up into something more.

The door to Keith's bedroom had barely slid shut when Pidge shoved him up against it, hands quickly dispensing with the utility belt on his armor, lips hotly pressed to the most sensitive spot of his throat. Once the belt was gone her hand slid over his hip and between his legs, and he could feel her shake with laughter at the involuntary groan that slipped out when she pressed against his burgeoning hard-on.

“Jesus, Pidge,” he gasped, trying to get out of his arm guards and chest plate. He gave up on that when she sucked his earlobe into her mouth, teeth closing on it ever so slightly.

With a strangled moan he pushed his hands into her hair and tugged, pulling her face away from the side of his neck so their lips could meet in a hot, hungry, and desperate kiss. They parted and each started tugging at their armor, Pidge cursing when she couldn't get one of her gloves off. “Fuck it!” she snarled under her breath before diving back in for another kiss.

Keith took advantage of her temporary distraction to switch their positions, pushing Pidge against the door and plastering himself against her, grinding his hips into hers. He couldn't stop his smile when she grabbed hold of his ass and pushed them closer together. One of his hands found its way to the zipper on the front of the bodysuit she wore under her armor, sliding it down and slipping inside to cup her breast in one smooth motion.

Pidge's breath hissed out of her mouth and she shoved against him, moving the pair of them away from the door and closer to the bed.

****~**~**~**~**~****

As Allura and Coran walked past Keith's door they heard breathy groans and an occasional thud coming from inside. Coran rolled his eyes. “Worst kept secret in the entire Castle,” he said.

Allura could only agree.


	3. Competition

“Wanna bet?”

Pidge laughed. “Seriously, Keith? After the last three ass whippings I gave you do you honestly want to try _again_?”

“Absolutely,” he replied with an emphatic nod. “You can't be a super genius at everything.”

With a sigh Pidge held up her hand, clenched in a fist. “Best of seven?”

Keith agreed, holding up his own hand. “Rock, paper, scissors. . .”

It didn't take long for Pidge to amass four victories in a row. When Keith angrily demanded to know how she was able to predict so accurately in a game of chance she just laughed. “But it's not chance, you see,” she replied, grinning all the while. “You assumed that I would have some sort of strategy, so you just threw out the same sign I had used the previous round. It wasn't hard to guess that that would be your approach, and then to counter it.”

For a moment Keith looked like he wanted to argue, but since that _had_ been his approach to the contest there wasn't a whole lot he could say. “Sometimes I hate you,” he grumbled instead, drawing a laugh out of his companion.

“No, you don't.”

****~**~**~**~**~****

“Aaaaand check-mate!”

Keith looked down at the board, face an incredulous mask. “You. . . Just. . . HOW?!” he stammered out. “This is Altean chess, and you learned it barely an hour ago while I've been playing Coran for months! How can you possibly beat me?”

Pidge shrugged. “Chess is chess, Keith,” she commented. “And winning is all about seeing the entire board and being able to think two, three, five, or even ten moves ahead. I told you that before we even started.” Then she grinned. “Re-match?”

He glared, but immediately started re-setting the board.

****~**~**~**~**~****

“Arm wrestling? No way; that's not an even contest from the beginning, and that's the rule.”

“While I would ordinarily argue the opposite -” Pidge snorted. “ - mainly because your knowledge of leverage and physics would be more than a match for any extra strength I have I wasn't suggesting that you and I arm wrestle.”

Pidge shot him a sideways look. “Then who? And before you say Lance and Hunk I'm calling Hunk, for the record.”

“Nope. It's no combination of humans or Alteans.” Keith's grin was a little scary. “Our lions should do it. We are the arms of Voltron, after all.”

Pidge snapped her gaping mouth closed with an audible _click_. “Okay, first of all, no. Second of all, hell no. Third of all Allura would kill us and whatever was left Shiro would chop into little bits. Soooo, no.”

“Scared?”

“Of death and little bit chopping? Definitely.”

****~**~**~**~**~****

“Why haven't we been counting sparring sessions in our little competitions?”

Pidge lay spread-eagle on the floor of the training deck, chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. “Because they usually end in a draw and we haven't been keeping track of ties,” she panted before sitting up and wiping the sweat from her forehead. She noticed Keith watching her, an unreadable look on his face. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, nothing!” Before he could really think about it he dropped to the floor, sitting close enough for their knees to touch. “I, uh, have an idea for another contest,” he said, praying that the heat in his face wasn't as visible as it felt. “Let's see who can surprise the other more.”

“That -” Pidge was at a loss for words for a minute. “That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!” she burst out when she found her voice again, turning her head to glare at Keith. “It can't be done, you know? I mean, how do you determine a winner? There's no objective way to measure UMPH -”

Keith's lips pressed to hers brought the rant to an abrupt conclusion, startling Pidge into a frozen stillness. But then a warmth stole through her and she relaxed, eyes drifting closed as she hesitantly returned the kiss. One of her hands slid across the floor, floundering slightly, until it reached his. Keith entwined their fingers together as the kiss broke on a sigh.

“You win,” Pidge whispered.


	4. AU

Keith looked down at the screen of his phone, double-checking the address in the text his friend Lance had sent him. It matched the building he was currently standing in front of, a fact which almost made him groan. He had agreed to this, he knew, but that didn't stop his brain from trying to come up with a scenario – any scenario – to get him out of this.

 _Feline Fine_ , the sign above the door read. The words were also painted in a messy sort of script across the large front window of the shop, with a trail of paw prints leading away from the last letter. He sighed; puns were the one great disagreement in his years-long friendship with Lance; he loved them and Keith loathed them. He couldn't wait to tell Lance what he thought of this one.

He didn't have long to wait; he heard a whistle and looked up to see Lance approaching, hands in his pocket and shoulders fashionably hunched. As always he was impeccably groomed and dressed, making Keith feel as if he had just woken up from an all-night binge. He rubbed the back of his neck, making a mental note to get a haircut sometime in the coming week, and stepped away from the building to acknowledge his friend.

Lance bounded up and in typical Lance fashion threw an arm around Keith's shoulders. “Sorry I'm late,” he gasped out. “I missed my first bus.”

Keith just nodded in response. In truth he had expected exactly this to happen so had shown up nearly ten minutes late himself. “Not a problem,” he replied. “I only just got here.” He shot his friend a sidelong glare. “I haven't even had enough time to think of words to describe the horribleness of the pun,” he went on, gesturing to the window.

“Oh, come on! It's funny!”

With a non-committal grunt Keith rolled his eyes. “Why are we here again?” he asked.

A flush started to creep up Lance's face. “Ummm, well, one of the owners -”

Keith laughed before the sentence finished; years of acquaintance made it unnecessary. “If you had told me this earlier I would have worn my official wing-man jacket instead of this thing!”

Lance turned even redder. “Oh, God, not that ratty thing!” Then he tossed his head and walked to the door, doing his best to ignore his still grinning friend.

The bell above the door made a soft, tinkling sound as they entered, immediately being engulfed in warmth after the chilly day outside. There were two people at the far end of the long room, one man and one woman, and Keith took a moment to asses the pair. The man was tall, although not quite as tall as Lance, and broad in a husky, muscular way. He had dark hair, an olive complexion, and when he smiled in greeting it lit up the entire room. He caught sight of Lance and a darker color bloomed across his cheeks.

Keith grinned and slapped Lance on the back. “No wing man required,” he whispered before moving away and sitting at one of the tables. There was a large cat bed against the wall, and curled up inside it was a long-haired calico. He slowly reached out and stroked the top of her head between her ears, marveling at the silky fur he found there. She responded by rolling over slightly, exposing her belly.

“Wow, she must like you,” a voice spoke beside Keith. “Showing the belly is a sign of trust for cats, and I have never seen her do that for anyone but me or Hunk.”

Keith smiled and took a moment to scratch lightly at the warm fur beneath his hand before turning to the person who had spoken. “H. . . Hi,” he managed to get out around his suddenly thick throat, feeling his face heat even as he spoke.

She grinned at him, honey-brown eyes alight with laughter. There was a piercing intelligence in them also, and a disarming dimple in her left cheek. Hair of almost the exact same color fell to her shoulders in soft waves. She was shorter than him, but had the sort of presence that filled a room.

And he knew then that he was more-or-less a lost cause.

She held out a hand towards him. “I'm Katie,” she said, when he clasped that small hand in his. “And this -” She gestured to the calico cat. “ - is Pidge.”

Yup, definitely a lost cause.


	5. Home

Pidge could not remember the last time she had felt so exhausted. It had been days since the fractured wormhole had spit her and the Green Lion out in a system full of gas giant planets and little else. Not even a moon or two that might promise solid ground to set down on so she could check over her Lion and effect any needed repairs. She had made do with the diagnostics that could be run from inside the cockpit but was fairly certain they didn't give her a complete picture. There were a few system fixes she had been able to get done, at least enough to give the pair of them confidence to get out of their precarious situation.

Probably the most important system that she had gotten up and running was guidance, because that helped her figure out where she was and what other systems were around her. Once it had been called up she saw plenty of red on the map, indicating the presence of Galra systems and colonies. But one system flashed a beautiful, reassuring blue, and when she had zoomed in on it her heart started to pound and her breath caught in her throat.

It was the Arus system. As close to a home as she had had since they left Earth. She had patted her Lion's control panel with affection. “Let's go home, sweetheart.”

That had been almost a week ago. A week of impossibly slow flight, of dodging Galra patrols, of stopping to make occasional repairs and giving her Lion a chance to rest and recharge. A week of stress, stress, and more stress, of bad rations and little sleep.

She nearly wept when the familiar blue and green contours of Arus came into view. She could feel a sense of excitement and content welling up inside her bond with Green, and she allowed those feeling to wash over her. “Almost there,” she whispered. “Almost -”

Alarms started blaring in the cockpit, startling Pidge out of a virtual trance. She checked the screens and saw that the power levels were dangerously low. “Why didn't you tell me? We could have stopped!” That contentment – the overwhelming feeling of _home_ – surged through their bond and she almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. “Okay, okay, I get it. But don't blame me if this landing is a little rougher than you're used to!”

It wasn't bad enough to be called a crash, at least. But it still left Pidge with sore ribs and a lump on her head and Green's claws buried in the ground after their long, skidding stop. The Lion didn't have enough power left to stand up, let alone pull her paws free, so with a groan she sank down, belly in the beautiful Arusian grass, as Pidge sighed in relief and let her head drop to the back of her pilot's chair. In barely a minute she was asleep.

****~**~**~**~**~****

The soft beeping of the proximity warning was the first indication that Green's power levels were returning to normal, the sound just loud enough to snap Pidge out of her somnolent state. She shifted in the uncomfortable chair, wincing as her muscles protested, then glanced at the control panel. Almost four hours had passed since their arrival on Arus, and despite its brevity the nap had done her quite a bit of good. She felt more alert than she had in days.

The alarm suddenly got louder, and Pidge heard the distinctive _buzz_ and _snap_ of the force field activating. She hit one button on the console to activate the outside view, a little worried at the Lion's reaction on what should be a safe planet. Not knowing what was approaching unnerved her to no end. As Green's eyes focused through the distortion of the force field Pidge caught sight of a small figure holding a sword. A figure that looked very familiar. And very distressed.

“Drop the force field!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet and hitting the button to open her Lion's mouth. She was out of the cockpit and halfway down the ramp before she even knew she had moved. “Klaizap!” she called out, relieved when the Arusian dropped his sword before rushing forward to hug her legs.

“Green Paladin, you must come to the village!” The tiny Arusian warrior was tugging on her hand now, and he was much stronger than his size would suggest. “You must! It is urgent!”

That last word kicked Pidge's instincts into overdrive and she scooped Klaizap up under one of her arms and ran back to the cockpit. Whatever urgency she felt must have transmitted itself through the bond because Green was already powering up all of her systems, rising to her feet. With a loud grating noise she pulled her paws free of the ground and before her Paladin and the Arusian could sit down she was off at a run, giant strides bounding across the plain toward the village.

Their arrival was so sudden that a flurry of screams greeted them, but Pidge barely heard any of them. At the base of the ramp waited the king and Moontow, both with worried expressions on their faces. “What is it?” she asked, kneeling to bring her face closer to theirs. “Klaizap said it was urgent. You're not. . . You're not under attack, are you?”

The king shook his head. “No, not attack, but we need your help,” he declared. “Only a Paladin of Voltron can fix this!” And he gestured toward the cliffs that the village sat beneath.

Pidge followed the line of his hand and saw what she was meant to see: a metallic paw was just visible over the edge of the cliff. It was surrounded by a force field that pulsed red at regular intervals. “Keith,” she breathed out.

“The Red Lion fell from the sky days ago, but she will not let us get near,” Moontow spoke quietly. “We know not if the Paladin is injured or -”

She didn't wait for any more of an explanation. With Moontow tucked under one arm and Klaizap under the other Pidge activated her jet packs and flew to the top of the cliff, landing lightly in front of where Red lay on her right side. She could tell at a glance that the Lion was damaged; there were scratch marks all along her flank, sparks from an electrical short in the knee joint of her left forepaw. The fluctuating color of the force field was another bad sign.

She stepped closer and laid a hand on the field, feeling Red's presence in her mind. “Let me in, Red. Please. You need my help.”

A thought passed through the bond: _Help bohoja_. Then a picture formed of Keith, lying on the floor of the cockpit, and Pidge choked on an almost sob. The force field dropped and she sprinted for the ramp, reaching Keith's side in record time.

He was conscious, but dazed and not very alert. “Pidge? Is that you?” he asked, words slurred.

She smiled and dropped to her knees, pressing her cheek against his. “It's me. You're gonna be all right; I'll take care of you.”

“Red. . .”

“I'll take care of her too, don't worry.” Pidge slid an arm under Keith's torso and helped him sit up, passing over a water pouch. “Drink. You're really dehydrated.”

He slurped the liquid and some of the fogginess disappeared from his eyes. “Where are we?” he asked. “I remember the wormhole, and being split up -”

Pidge smiled as she pushed hair away from his face to tend to a cut on his temple. “We're on Arus. We're home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Bohoja_ means guardian in Korean, at least according to Google Translate.


	6. Arms

She'd rather be chewed up and spit out by a pack of wild yalmors than admit to it, but Pidge had always had a bit of a thing for Keith's arms.

It was hard to pinpoint the moment when it began; probably when they were handcuffed together in the early days of their adventure. But the first time she was truly aware of it was watching him take off his jacket. One arm had gotten a little stuck in its sleeve, and watching the tendons in his other forearm flex as he tugged the jacket free had been an enlightening experience.

Also a slightly embarrassing one when he turned her way and caught her watching.

Of course her awareness only grew from there. The first time they sparred hand-to-hand Keith managed to get her in a headlock; she had been so absorbed in watching every flex and twitch in the arm around her neck that she nearly lost consciousness from lack of oxygen. Luckily Keith noticed in time and released her.

“I'd apologize but I think a more appropriate reaction would be to ask what the hell were you thinking?” he all but shouted at her. “All you had to do was give my arm the two tap signal and I would have let you go!”

When Keith felt that he had gone as far as he could fighting with both his Bayard and long-bladed knife he decided to try a staff similar to what the simulated Gladiator used, and he brought Pidge in to help him. She re-programmed the battle simulator so that it was more of an instructor and then spent hours on the training deck watching as Keith learned the techniques. Watching the blur of motion that his arms became whenever he twirled the staff behind his back before returning to a defensive position in front of his body. Watching his triceps flex when the staff was dropped straight down before being thrust forward in the most common attack maneuver.

And then decided to give staff fighting a try herself simply so they could spend more time together.

The first time Keith held her in his arms she had just come out of nearly twenty-four hours in a healing pod, recovering from the most serious injuries she had ever suffered as a Paladin of Voltron. She stumbled out on shaky legs, blinking against the suddenly bright light attacking her eyes. Disoriented, and having difficulty seeing, were a perfect recipe for disaster, and it didn't take long for her to stagger and then trip.

But she never made contact with the unforgiving floor. Instead a pair of warm, strong arms caught her and pulled her against an equally warm chest and a soft voice whispered “Relax, it's okay. I've got you.” in her ear. Her own hands lifted, wrapping around his arms, fingernails catching in the soft material of his t-shirt.

The best thing about Keith's arms, she decided that day, was how they made her feel.


	7. Holiday

“You know Allura is going to have a fit when she sees this, right?”

Pidge snorted. “Not likely,” she scoffed. “This was all approved a month ago; she said she was curious about 'this important Earth holiday' and gave us permission to decorate the Castle however we wanted.”

“Including using Blue's ice weapon to festoon the main hall with snow and icicles?” Keith asked, one eyebrow rising toward his hairline.

Pidge flushed. “Okay, so maybe we went a little overboard.”

“In typical Lance fashion,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Him being so gung ho about Christmas doesn't surprise me, but I wouldn't have expected it of you.”

Her smile turned sad. “It was always my mom's favorite holiday,” she whispered, looking around at the decorated main hall. “I guess putting effort into celebrating, even though we're out in space and who knows how far away from Earth makes me feel closer to her. Just a little bit.”

Keith felt a little awkward but placed a (he hoped) comforting hand on his fellow Paladin's shoulder. “You miss her.” It wasn't a question.

A suspicious sniffle sounded next to him. “Yeah, I do,” Pidge responded. “It's kind of strange, though, because I was always closer to my dad and Matt, had more things in common with them, you know?” She sniffed again. “But since all of this insanity started I've really felt the lack of her presence in my life. Allura is great, and it helps to be around another girl, but it's just not the same.”

Keith hummed in agreement, which just made Pidge laugh. “You don't have to agree; I know you don't. . . well, have the best ideas about family, and probably not a lot of great holiday memories, and all of this is fuss is probably weird to you, and I've just completely offended you, haven't I?”

“No, not at all,” was the reply. “Every word you just said was true. But that doesn't mean I can't learn to enjoy Christmas with the people who are my family now, right?”

Pidge went wide-eyed with surprise before wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing. “I'll make this the best holiday you've ever had,” she vowed.

****~**~**~**~**~****

A week later, on what Hunk had calculated was Christmas Eve, they all gathered in the impressively decorated main hall of the Castle to open presents and sing carols that Hunk had been in charge of teaching to Allura and Coran. Pidge had used the the hologram generator in her armor to create a massive holographic fireplace with a cheery blaze filling it. In addition to the snow and icicles there were pine-like garlands draped everywhere, and it didn't even seem strange that the needles were purple. Lance had even managed to procure something like construction paper and the red and green chains were wrapped around a tree that Shiro had fashioned out of scrap metal he had found in the Castle's main cargo hold.

It was the most insane Christmas that any of them could, or ever after would, remember. Coran's unique Altean take on _The Twelve Days of Christmas_ proved to be the highlight of the evening, leaving everyone collapsed in laughing heaps on the floor, gasping for breath. Even Keith, who was usually more reserved whenever they were all gathered together, was relaxed and laughing along, and Pidge felt a little jolt in her heart every time their eyes met and he smiled at her.

The gift giving was chaotic, although everyone agreed that the Zarkon voodoo doll that Lance made for Allura was the hit of the night. Pidge and Hunk had to be forcibly stopped from immediately starting to tinker with the mechanical oddities from strange planets that they had received, and Shiro had blushed like mad over the handwritten _World's Greatest Space Dad_ t-shirt that his team presented him. The only thing that was missing was a present from Keith to Pidge, but no one commented on it.

Keith and Pidge were left alone in the hall after everyone else went off to bed, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. When Pidge moved as if to leave Keith took hold of her wrist. “Stay, please. If you go the fireplace will as well, and I'm kind of enjoying it.”

“Okay,” Pidge agreed, smiling as she shifted to sit a little closer, leaning her head on his shoulder. “So,” she began, careful to keep her voice neutral. “How does this rate on your personal Christmas scale?”

Keith grinned and turned his head slightly to look down at her. “The best ever, just like you promised.”

“I'm glad.”

“There's, uh, one more thing, though,” he said. Pidge lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes, surprised at the flush that was spreading up his cheeks. “Your present. You know, from me.”

“Keith, you don't -”

“I talked to Coran a lot the last couple of days, telling him about all sorts of Christmas traditions,” he interrupted. “One in particular.” He rummaged in one of his pockets and pulled out a sprig of some strange plant with spiky, blue leaves and star-shaped, silver berries. “He told me that on Altea, when the rowanberries bloomed in the winter they would celebrate with a festival, and newly married or about to be married couples would have to kiss underneath an arch made out of the bushes to ensure a long and happy marriage.”

Pidge felt a smile tug at her mouth and she reached out, wrapping her hand around Keith's until they were both holding the rowanberry sprig. “So this is like Altean mistletoe,” she said, raising their hands until the greenery was above his head.

Keith glanced up at the sprig and shifted it to be above Pidge. “This is supposed to be my present to you, not the other way around.”

“Or we could just share it.”

When their lips met Keith couldn't help but think that this was _definitely_ the best Christmas.


End file.
